The elf shakes his head in anger. "I fear that my... that Ilmadia has set a trap. An army like the one there is enough to clear out Ten Towns." He grips his bow tightly. "This is too much. If this is her doing, she endangers the entire region! It cannot stand."
Kuldahar
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The elf shakes his head in anger. "I fear that my... that Ilmadia has set a trap. An army like the one there is enough to clear out Ten Towns." He grips his bow tightly. "This is too much. If this is her doing, she endangers the entire region! It cannot stand."
Staying behind, alone? No. I choose to trust him.
She taps her glaive in the dirt. "A trap set by Ilmadia? On that scale? Subtlety was everything when it came to the twins. Belhifet finding out about them seemed to be the only thing she feared. If this is Ilmadia's doing, I imagine it was in Belhifet's plans all along. If not, then perhaps the devil has already taken care of her."
She looks up at the frazzled elf. "Did you happen to see my Cagebreakers as you passed by?"
"Good. The other part of my tribe should be just as close. We'll have our own army, at least three to four hundred battle-hardened orcs. I'd rather it not come to that, but it should give Belhifet's forces pause."
"True, she probably doesn't have the Ten Town's interests in mind. However, I doubt it's a trap for us. This isn't the first time one of the towns has been a gathering point for enemy forces, though...why that one?" Zenithral thinks back to his visions. There was something he was still missing...something that should be obvious. "I need a moment," he says, stepping away from the group.
With this new knowledge, Zenithral figured puzzling over it might be worth another try. Fluphy, can you help me recall that montaged vision again? (If Fluphy wants, Zenithral will cast Heroism on him.)
The images seem to have nothing in common beyond a fragmented sense of urgency...
An ancient oak tree. The Great Oak of Kuldahar.
Something distorts the vision. A star, falling from the sky?
A black wolf that sits and waits. The symbol of Kresselack, the Black Wolf. The Vale of Shadows. Jhonen...
It burns as it falls, leaving a trail of smoke. Buzzing in the ears.
A robed, headless statue. The Temple of the Forgotten God, from where the Heartstone Gem was stolen. Tunnels, trolls, snakes. Mother Egenia. Yxonumei.
Incredible speed. Awesome power. The falling star radiates both. The buzzing gets worse.
A dragon skull with an eye socket of terrible depth. Bilewing. Poquelin! Those robes and that script...
Pain. Burning, agonizing pain.
A disembodied, spectral hand that claws towards the sky. The Severed Hand. Erestor. Lance and Mona. Arannis. Aeri?
Light so bright as to wipe out all vision. Blazing, furious heat. Still falling.
A pool of frozen water, something dark and indescribable beneath its surface. One of Icewind Dale's great lakes, perhaps. Lac Dinneshere?
A person in the light. Falling? Or flying down on wings of flame? Sword in hand. A woman's face, beautiful and terrible. Tears of frustration. Of rage.
A furnace glowing red and orange with molten slags of metal. Ilmadia? Wherever this means, Zenithral's mother is there!
A pool of writhing darkness below. As force of brilliant, raging light, the figure hits the pool. And is devoured.
Sorrow...
A single shard of crystal that pulsates with pale light. Reflexted in its surface is Myllandra's strange, hooded visage...
Rolls
Investigation (with Help from Fluphy) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (14) + 7 = 21
1d20+7 : (8) + 7 = 15
Except the very last image of this vision. That crystal shard...
But what if it is also a location? Not a shard, but a tower! Zenithral knows that whatever purpose Ilmater has been calling him to, the next step is toward the crystal tower that has appeared in Easthaven.
It seems highly unlikely that the events occurring there are solely Ilmadia’s doing. However the tower came to be there, it is apparently part of a series of events that have been foreseen for some time. But what part is Zenithral meant to play there?
It is the next step toward his purpose... And, possibly, the final one.
"A dwerf, erm.... This one, has been tryin’ new magic out... in... the woods. Now, a dwerf still has all his fingers and toes, mind you, an’ he may have found hisself 6 feet under the snow a couple o’ times.... A dwerf is trying to say he can use the magic o’ the north to teleport from one place to another...."
The time had come, after a few practice runs of teleporting some of the local hunters from one side of the city to the other, Reòthadh was now expected to bring his companions to the designated site to meet Ilmadia. Sweat beading down his forehead, the dwarf nervously prays in his heart that Marthammor Duin watches over his travels once more.
Taking hold of the orcish bow, taken from the cave they planned to travel to, the sorcerer pushes back the dread in his heart and begins his chants, invoking the light of the north to lead them to where they need to go. Frost begins to coalesce on him and his companions, first on the metals and then the rest of their clothing. For a moment the air goes still; the sounds of nature almost stopped completely. With a sharp intake of air, Reòthadh and his companions find themselves no longer in the woods near Kuldahar.